


along the lake shore (hand in hand)

by lachesisgrimm (olga_theodora)



Series: cottagecore au [2]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Cats, Devoted Reylo, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, F/M, Modern AU, Naked Female Clothed Male, No Pregnancy, Outdoor Sex, Varykino, blink and you miss it reference to my favorite OC, brief references to less than great childhoods but nothing detailed, grand-mere padme, hornier than I expected, is that a ghost behind you, proper sun protection is important, regency romance roleplay, romance novelist ben, the bare minimum of plot and maximum of fluff, the spiritual opposite of walk the halls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:48:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25861603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olga_theodora/pseuds/lachesisgrimm
Summary: “Ben.” Rey waited until he lifted his head, and there it was: hints of the tamped-down amusement she had been able to hear in his voice. “I am not having sex with you in your grandmother’s house.”(Prequel towe will all the pleasures prove.)
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: cottagecore au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875916
Comments: 78
Kudos: 243





	along the lake shore (hand in hand)

**Author's Note:**

> Reading [we will all the pleasures prove](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24574882) beforehand is not necessary; you can always read it after!

Rey had never before stepped foot in a house with its own name. She had grown up in foster homes and transitioned into cheap and drafty apartments shared with a horde of Craigslist roommates; was accustomed to small rooms and fading paint, failing AC systems and sheets bought on deep discount. Ben’s apartment (their apartment, now), with its full fridge and impossibly large bed, was the nicest place Rey had ever rested her head, and a part of her still felt a kind of muddled awe every time she woke to the sound of her husband-to-be cooking breakfast in their kitchen, his side of the bed faintly warm.

Varykino- complete with widow’s walk and eaves and flower gardens sloping down to the lake’s edge- was so far beyond her experience that she found it a little hard to breathe as they drove down the curving driveway. “It’s big,” she managed, twisting her engagement ring (“My grandmother’s,” Ben had said, and it had barely been on her hand for a moment before she had been kissing him and bearing him down to their living room floor) around her finger. 

“It is.” He knew her too well to prevaricate. After parking he turned toward her, one large hand curving over her thigh. “Too big?”

“I’m going to get lost between my room and the kitchen,” she tried to joke, but her tone fell flat.

“It’s not that bad.” His thumb smoothed over the inner seam of her jeans as he leaned in, expression that soft, focused look Poe always called _Ben’s Rey face._ “I’ll guide you.”

“Is she going to let us stay in the same wing?” An exaggeration, but not by much. “You might have to run a marathon just to reach me in the morning.” 

One brow arched upward mischievously as he dropped a kiss on her shoulder. “The same bed. Grand-mère-”

A second kiss, and her gaze flicked briefly toward the still-shut front door. 

“-has never been one for what she calls ‘puritanical nonsense’.”

“Ben.” Rey waited until he lifted his head, and there it was: hints of the tamped-down amusement she had been able to hear in his voice. “I am not having sex with you in your grandmother’s house.”

He did his best to hide his disappointment, but only managed a kind of pout that she wanted to kiss away. “We’re here for a week.”

And he was a little insatiable, her Ben- but then, so was she. “You are loud, and I refuse to break _another_ bed with you.” 

“ _That_ wasn’t my fault,” he replied, though his smug satisfaction belied his words. “That twin bed of yours had structural issues.”

“The structural issue was us going at it like the world was ending within the hour.”

“I,” he murmured, hand sliding up her thigh, “have a great deal of enthusiasm and love to unstintingly bestow upon you.” He no longer bothered to hide his amusement; the sly smile on his face was one she was very familiar with. “And I’ve never heard you say anything more than ‘yes, yes, harder’ on the subject. Usually some ‘fuck, Ben, you’re so good’ in there, too.”

“You are,” she admitted sternly, trying not to grin and thus encourage him. “But this is the kind of place we should be having missionary sex through a hole in the sheet while I think about England.” Rey narrowed her eyes. “And you know I hate thinking of England.”

Ben shifted from far-too-sexy fiancé to gentle and concerned, the weight of his hand on her thigh suddenly more reassuring than enticing. “I know, sweetheart.” He kissed her lightly- but then he pulled back, and there was a somewhat wistful cast to his expression. “But maybe, when we get home…”

She snorted, feeling rather more excited by the idea than she had expected. “You can cut a hole in that terrible set of sheets I used in college. We’ll finally have a use for them.”

“I look forward to deflowering my modest, timid wife, who was given to me by a non-English king after a great victory.”

He was ridiculous, and she loved him. “Ben.”

“Gonna tuck you in so tightly you won’t be able to wiggle away from my spear.”

The front door was opening. “Ben.”

“All you’ll be thinking about is how much you enjoy my siege at your gates.”

“ _Ben._ ” She cupped his cheek, smiling brightly. “Your grandmother is walking toward us.”

He was out of the car in seconds, a genuine grin on his face as he jogged up to the small woman making her way down the stone path. The top of her head barely reached his shoulders, but- as Rey herself slid out of the car, taking in a breath of air redolent with cut grass and flowers- she held herself with the kind of utter confidence that Rey had always admired, love and amusement radiating from her as she tilted her head back to look up at her grandson. 

“I swear, you’re taller every time I see you,” she said fondly in a mellifluously accented voice. She reached up, rings glittering in the sun, and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear with the ease of someone who had performed that same action time and time again. “Though I might be shrinking. How is my boy?”

The question was warmly spoken and earnestly meant; clearly if Ben gave any indication of unhappiness she would bend her entire will toward fixing the problem- and that understanding made Rey (who had dreaded meeting Leia, afraid that Ben’s mother might hate her on sight) realize that maybe, maybe, she should have been worried about a different matriarch. “I’m wonderful,” Ben reassured her. “I’ve been looking forward to introducing you both in person for a long time.”

“He’s been talking about you since our first date,” Rey ventured, trying to discretely scrub her damp palms against her jeans. “He loves you very much; I’m half marrying him to gain an amazing grandmother.” The words- too awkward, too close to the bone- tumbled from her lips unchecked, _oh shit_ rattling through her mind immediately after. “Not that-”

Rey clamped her mouth shut a good thirty seconds too late, cheeks blazing with heat. Padmé stepped up to her, taking her hands with a gentle squeeze. “Rey. Welcome to Varykino.” A hint of familiar mischief appeared in her eyes even as her mouth curled into a true smile. “You have excellent taste in men- though I am biased in this regard- so I know we’re going to get along. Benoît, please gather your lovely fiancée’s things. I’ve put you both in the blue room.”

“I could help-”

“Of course you could,” Padmé said easily when Rey attempted a token protest. “But why, when we have a strapping gentleman to fetch and carry for us? Let him show off.”

Ben’s laugh- unrestrained and light-hearted; so much more natural than the way he laughed around his parents- argued that he had no problem with being relegated to pack mule for the week. “Do you want me to chop wood, too?”

“Yes.” Padmé took Rey’s arm, patting her hand. “I’ll set up Rey under the shade a safe distance away, with a nice snack and something cool to drink.” She began leading Rey up the path, giving her a conspiratorial look. “Make sure you slather him with sunscreen beforehand; we can’t have him out of commission with a sunburn.”

Rey, charmed and feeling as if the ground were shifting beneath her, smiled tentatively. “He always forgets his ears.”

“He _does._ And such lovely ears they are.”

“Grand-mère-”

“Just like your grandfather’s.”

Ben- Rey’s duffel and purse slung over one shoulder, his own suitcase under his other arm- caught up with them, expression sheepish. “Okay, Grand-mère.”

Padmé gently bumped her shoulder against Rey’s, a few gray curls fluttering in the breeze. “I’m so glad that _both_ of you are here.” She gave Rey a quick look, one that was soft and sweet and very like her grandson. “And that ring looks just right on your finger.”

When an actual tear slipped down Rey’s cheek despite her best efforts otherwise, Padmé handed her an embroidered handkerchief with an understanding smile. “Come inside,” she said, and led Rey through the open front door. 

\- - -

“This place is beautiful,” Rey told the ceiling of their bedroom, sleepy from a long day of travel and the delicious dinner Padmé had served. She patted the obscenely soft sheets of their bed, pleating a small section between her fingers. “Your summers here must have been amazing.”

“Best part of my childhood,” Ben replied fervently, pulling his shirt off. 

“I’ve never actually been in a house that felt like one of the manors in your novels.” Rey began shimmying out of her jeans, not bothering to get up. Even the silently spinning ceiling fan above seemed richer, the air moving over her skin like silk. “With polished wood floors and the smell of lemon polish and a pantry like a work of art.”

“Most of them are based on Varykino, in one way or another,” he admitted, grabbing the bottom of her jeans and tugging when they got stuck around her knees. Draping them over the back of the chair, he eyed her with a look of palpable longing. “You’re wearing my favorite underwear.”

Rey snorted, plucking at the waistband. “They practically come up to my navel. There’s a rainbow over my ass.”

“You always look so comfortable in them.” Removing his own jeans, he lowered his voice to a rumbling murmur. “And some of my favorite mornings have started with you sprawled on your belly, that rainbow plain to see.”

“It’s nice that you find me sexy when I’m drooling in my sleep,” she mused, languorously dragging off her blouse. Her limbs seemed to be sinking into the mattress. 

“Comfortable,” he repeated, one hand flat against her ribs, his thumb brushing against the underwire of one bra cup. “My sleepy girl.” 

Overhead there was a creak like someone treading on a loose board. Rey registered it without worry, smiling up at him. “No sex in Grand-mère’s house.”

His pout was clearly for show; the look in his eyes was too warm and soft for there to be any real disappointment. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“I like her.”

“She likes you.” He slipped his hands under her, expertly undoing the clasp of her bra. “Let me tuck you in, sweetheart.”

Rey yawned, wriggling against the sheets. “Can I wear one of your t-shirts?”

He helped her into one of her favorites (worn thin with multiple washings, a faded _Coruscant U_ emblazoned across the front), and drew the light blanket up around her shoulders. “Good dreams,” she heard him whisper after turning off her bedside lamp.

She was asleep shortly after he slid into bed himself, his warmth at her back and one strong arm tucked securely around her. 

\- - -

Varykino, in an oddly comforting kind of way, seemed to watch- or, Rey decided as she wandered out onto a balcony on the next morning, perhaps the word she wanted was _protect._ Like a friendly sheep dog, she felt rather as if the house kept close to her heels, keeping track of her with warm attentiveness. Leaning against the sturdy railing, she plunked her chin in her hand and surveyed the garden below, misty with thin rain.

 _I don’t know what to do,_ she found herself thinking, and for the first time in her life the thought came with a pleasurable peace. No need to hurry, no need to justify her own laziness to herself; she could pull out the ARC of Ben’s next book and settle into one of the house’s many nooks.

The house, she felt, would be happy for her to do just that. 

“Good morning.” Rey was too relaxed to even startle at the sound of Padmé’s voice, though she did straighten and turn. “Did you sleep well?”

How many times had Rey been asked that question, with clear understanding that the asker was not interested in the answer? “Very well.” She laughed a little at the understatement (she still had a crease on one cheek, she was still as sleepy-eyed as a puppy), running her fingers through her hair. “Ben’s still out. I don’t think I’ve ever known him to sleep past eight.” 

“Back when he spent summers with me, the first week or so he would nearly always sleep till lunch and then nap on the couch midway through the afternoon.” A flash of remembered displeasure flickered over her face. “That school of his ran him ragged.”

Rey gave Padmé a searching look. “You got his headmaster fired.”

Her hostess smiled with slow, sharp satisfaction at the memory, and Ben’s description of the upheaval as _aggressive negotiations_ suddenly made a great deal more sense. There was a fierceness to Padmé at that moment, a fierceness that Rey had seen echoes of in both her daughter and grandson. “Alistair Snoke was very lucky that I merely destroyed his professional reputation.” 

The implication that Padmé could have, if she had pleased, shredded what remained of his life at any point up to his death was plain- and Rey, who knew just how emotionally abusive Ben’s school days had been (he had cried over them more than once in her arms, just as she had cried over her own childhood in his, both of them murmuring “You’re not alone” into the hair of the other), gave her a feral smile in return. “Very lucky.”

“But enough with that old bastard,” Padmé said with a wave of her hand. “Even his name taints the air. Do you eat bacon?”

“A lot of it,” Rey replied. “May I help with breakfast? I’m not the best cook, but I’m good with a knife.”

“A woman after my own heart.” As they approached, the porch door drifted gently to and fro in the still air, somehow coming to rest in Padmé’s hand the moment she reached for it. “How are you with boats?”

“I’ve never been on one,” Rey answered, belatedly wishing she wore more than Ben’s shirt and a pair of baggy shorts. 

“Tomorrow is supposed to be sunny.” Padmé was slow but confident on the stairs, only a small hitch to her steps. “I’ll pack a picnic and Ben can row you out to the island.” Her tone turned dreamily reminiscent. “We used to picnic on the island, Anakin and I. Did Ben tell you why we picked this spot?”

Rey trailed behind her into the kitchen, Padmé’s fluffy black cat Theed coming up to sniff at her ankles with a chirp. “No.” She had seen pictures, though: old, carefully preserved photographs of the house under construction; of his grandparents young and beautiful, grinning on the lake shore. Padmé still had the same tumble of curls, gone gray, and on that morning tied back with a red ribbon.

“Because the moment we stepped onto the property, we knew it was ours.” She opened the fridge, glancing back at Rey with a smile. “It’s like that, sometimes, don’t you think? Some places are just yours, and you know right away.”

Rey slid her fingertips over the cool marble of the kitchen island. She had chased that feeling all her life, finding traces in books and in a half-dozen underfunded rural libraries, but- 

“I think… I think Ben is the closest I’ve ever come.”

Padmé set a carton of eggs between them, obviously pleased by her words. “I’m happy to hear that- and I think, one day, you will find that place. You and Ben.” She tilted her head slightly to the side with a considering look, leaving Rey wondering what, exactly, Ben had told his grandmother about her past.

 _I don’t care,_ she decided after a moment. _He could have told her everything, and I wouldn’t care at all._

“Pancakes?” Padmé asked in a tone of soft encouragement that had nothing to do with her question. 

“Please.”

When Ben finally shambled down the stairs, hair a mess, Rey was halfway through her first helping and they were laughing over his overturning an entire bag of flour on himself when he was three (and Rey, quietly, had let slip that no one had ever made her pancakes until she reached the age of nineteen).

\- - -

They were drinking champagne cocktails on the covered porch, the rain falling in curtains from the eaves and the plundered remnants of a cheese board on the table, when the screen door opened on its own. Rey looked toward it with a frown, searching for any sign of life in the kitchen beyond- Theed, she supposed, was probably large enough to reach the latch if he really stretched- but saw nothing more than empty air.

“Don’t worry, dear,” Padmé said calmly, spreading a smidgen of brie on one of the last crackers. “Anakin is just afraid that I’ll take a chill; he wants me to go inside.”

Rey blinked, glancing at Ben beside her. His smile was rather panicked. “I may have forgotten to mention him, Grand-mère.”

“Forewarning does usually inspire a certain set of expectations,” she acknowledged with a nod, then told Rey matter-of-factly, “My husband was too stubborn to leave Varykino after he died.”

“…Oh,” Rey replied, a little stunned.

“No need to worry, he’s a friendly ghost.” Padmé raised a brow when the door snapped shut. “Scare away Benoît’s bride, Anakin, and we will be having a discussion.” 

Rey couldn’t quite explain it, but the house almost seemed to take on an air of apology.

Which was ridiculous. 

Right?

“Ruwée called,” Padmé offered, as if that were a perfectly normal transition to make. “She’s been offered a fellowship in Belgium.”

And- happy as Rey was for Ben’s second cousin slash honorary older sister- her contributions to the ensuing conversation were somewhat limited by the way her gaze kept compulsively darting back to the screen door.

\- - -

“A ghost?” she asked Ben later that evening, once they were alone in their room and preparing for bed.

He shrugged, stepping behind her to take hold of the zipper of her dress. “It’s an old house.”

“Is that your final answer?”

Ben was quiet for a long moment, then murmured, “I’ve had some odd things happen here. Nothing bad.” He met her eyes in the mirror, clearly uncertain. “Are you mad at me? It’s really just family lore; I would never take you anywhere dangerous.”

“No. I’ve just-”

Rey paused, trying to order her thoughts. “I’ve just never had to decide whether I believe in ghosts or not.”

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Grand-père is a good starter ghost.” When she laughed his smile grew, and- tunneling his arms under her loosened dress- he hugged her from behind, crouching slightly. “I honestly didn’t think about it until we got here, and then I wasn’t sure what to say.”

“I forgive you.” Turning her head, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “This house does feel…”

“Awake?” he suggested quietly, and she leaned back against him with a nod.

“It’s a good house.”

“It is.” Ben paused, then admitted in a low voice, “Sometimes I do believe the story. Sometimes I think… I think that after Grand-mère dies, Varykino will just be a pretty, empty shell. That they’ll go together.” He nuzzled his nose into her hair. “They loved each other very much.”

“That’s a good thought.” Crossing her arms, she clasped her hands over his, her dress in between. “I love you very much.”

“I know. I love you very much, too.” He cuddled her close, hands hot against her skin. “More than the stars.”

“More than cake.”

“My sweetheart.” He lifted his head, meeting her gaze with a smile that verged on naughty. “That bed is very sturdy.”

“Ahh, but a ghost is watching.” Or the foundation was settling. “No.”

And then she kissed his smiling mouth, and stroked his hair until he slept.

\- - -

Padmé had, unsurprisingly, an actual picnic basket in the pantry, complete with checkered blanket and place-settings for two. She sent them out at lunch the next day with a bundle so heavy Ben teased her about trying to sink them. 

The boat, though, accepted its burden with equanimity. “What do you think?” Ben asked once they were away from the shore, rowing with practiced ease. 

Rey smirked at him from under her parasol (“For the effect,” Padmé had explained, and Rey had to admit that there was something decadent to sitting at her ease, pretty white lace over her head), trailing one hand in the water. “I think you should roll up your shirt-sleeves.”

He huffed a laugh, features shadowed by the floppy straw hat he had dug from the depths of a hall closet. “I’ll keep that in mind on our way back. How are you feeling about the boat?”

“Odd.”

“You know I’ll save you if we capsize.”

“I know.” And she did, she truly did, but- if Rey were honest with herself- she preferred to stand on the shore of large bodies of water, rather than float on them. “I don’t see any other people.”

“No other neighbors. Most of this part of the lake belongs to a nature preserve.” She could see, even under his shirt sleeves, the faint ripple of his muscles. “The island, too; odds are it will be just us and the butterflies.”

“Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Solo?” she asked with a sly smile, glad their plans aligned. “Like one of your regency lords? Is there a folly?”

“No, but I _do_ remember a nice little spot impossible to see from the water.” He was fluttering his eyelashes at her, damn him. “May I compromise you under the open sky, Miss Johnson?”

“Hmm.” She twirled her parasol, realizing that the gentle motion of the boat _was_ very nice, as long as she didn’t think about the expanse of water beneath them. “Maybe.” Flicking a few droplets at him, she grinned at his expression of utter joy. “Calm down, Solo; I want a chance to see this spot of yours, first.”

A few minutes later they reached the island shore, and Rey knew, right off, that he had been correct on at least two points: that they were the only humans on that particular patch of land, and that there were, indeed, butterflies. Masses of blue butterflies trembling on flowering bushes and fluttering through the air, unlike anything she had ever seen before. Ben, in the seconds she stared wide-eyed, stepped into the shallows and plucked her out of the boat as easily as he might pick up their full hamper, depositing her on dry land. “See?” he said with satisfaction as he dragged the boat up onto the shore. 

“We’re going to scare them,” she murmured, standing stock-still where he had planted her. 

“No.” He gathered up the picnic basket, placing a hand against her back. “As long as we don’t run shrieking through the bushes they’ll be fine. My family has been picnicking here since Grand-mère was a newlywed; the butterflies were here then and will be here after we leave.”

“Okay.” Eyes still on the closest bush, she closed the parasol and left it in the boat, more than a little afraid she might knock fragile wings from the sky. “Show me your spot.”

The island was small, as she had been able to tell from the opposite shore. It boasted a healthy number of bushes, a few trees, the butterfly colony, and- after traipsing down a short path- a shallow bowl of a meadow screened from view, just as he had promised. 

And Ben, after all his talk, was not only unfolding the blanket on a patch of grass, but was also unpacking the basket: sandwiches and fruit, cheese and pretty little tarts, water and wine, the brim of his hat completely eclipsing his features. Even knowing she would likely fall asleep in the sun after consuming her fill, he was putting her stomach first. 

“You promise we aren’t disturbing the butterflies?” she asked as he set out plates and silverware, stemless wine glasses and napkins, her own fingers busily unbuttoning the front of her red sundress. 

“Swear.” He popped a raspberry into his mouth, then picked up the bottle of wine to consider the wire cage over the cork. “Do you want a drink, sweetheart?”

“Sure.” Her dress dropped to the ground, and she stepped out of her sandals. Underfoot the grass was deliciously soft, and her undergarments- pink and blue; she had never seen the point in matching and Ben had certainly never complained- were bright against the green when she let them fall. “We should put the blanket in the washing machine first thing,” Rey told him, stepping past him to sit. “Ourselves,” she added when he looked up, pleased by the audible catch in his throat. “Only polite.”

In a show of excellent if unintentional timing the cork popped loudly, a short stream of sparkling pink wine bubbling over Ben’s hand. “I’d like some of that,” she said when he seemed liable to hold on to the bottle and stare for a year and a day. “And I think you should keep most of your clothing on, because while I covered myself head to toe with sunscreen-”

He burst out laughing, grabbing a nearby glass and filling it nearly to the brim. 

“-I’m guessing you might have skimped a little.”

“I thought I was doing the seducing,” he said teasingly, handing her the glass and wedging the bottle in a safe spot. “Miss Johnson.”

“I fear you’ve fallen prey to an adventuress, Lord Solo. One who doesn’t want to experience sunburn on her nipples.” She nudged his calf with her bare toes. “Besides, that hat drives me wild. I must have you ravish me while wearing it.”

“We’ll have to be quiet,” he murmured, gaze heated. “Sound carries over water.”

“No thumping headboards or ghosts, though.” She picked up one of the napkins, waving it in his direction. “Shall I gag you, Lord Solo? I, after all, am much better at holding my tongue.”

He snatched it from her with a muttered, “Our neighbors must _hate_ us,” before tying it himself. Rey leaned back on one hand sipping at her wine as he unbuttoned his khakis, the bubbles bright on her tongue and the sun warm against her skin.

“Comfortable, Ben?” she asked quietly when he settled beside her. He nodded, fingertips dragging over the crease of her thigh. “You’ll bail me out if I get arrested for public indecency, right?”

His laugh, though obscured, was clear enough, and the intentional caress between her folds even clearer. Hurriedly setting aside the glass (which toppled, cool liquid pooling against her hip and seeping into the blanket), she lay back with a teasing “Take me, Lord Solo.”

They had never had sex outdoors. They had never even had sex with him fully dressed and her naked- skin to skin was too good to miss, too necessary for both of them; the one time she had left on a garter belt and stockings both had been in shreds by the end- but there was something to that moment, on that island. The brim of his hat veiled her own face from the sun once he crawled on top of her, lending a further air of privacy to a spot where the only sounds were the lap of the lake and their own harsh breathing. The blanket against her back, the breeze, the smell of the flowers and Ben between her legs, cotton rubbing against every inch save for his cock hot inside of her- and soon enough she was digging her fingers into his back, muffling her cry against his neck. 

She untied his gag with fumbling fingers, after, accidentally knocking his hat off and leaving them both blinking in the sun. 

“I,” she informed him rather breathlessly, “will marry you by special license forthwith.”

A smile spread across his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and over the next several minutes he very nearly kissed her senseless.

\- - -

Padmé, blessedly, asked absolutely no questions about their sudden interest in her laundry room.

\- - - 

Varykino was bright with sound during the day- birdsong, laughter, music. Ben, Rey had known in a kind of abstract way, could dance (she had begun to fall in love with him the night he had fed her homemade pizza and, both of them a little wine-drunk, had led her in an impromptu waltz around his living room as Maria and Captain Von Trapp danced the laendler on his tv screen), but with his grandmother he _danced,_ the pair of them executing a respectable foxtrot after Padmé brought up his childhood ballroom lessons. 

“He used to be very good at the lindy hop,” Padmé revealed with a smile, cheeks still flushed from their performance. “Ben, you should teach Rey. She’s fearless; you could toss her around without worry.”

“ _I_ would worry,” Ben protested even as Rey blurted, “The _what?_ ”

“I,” Padmé said with satisfaction, “have pictures.”

(College Ben- teenage gangliness still very present- tossing a girl wearing pedal pushers over his shoulders with his own feet a blur was better than Rey ever could have imagined.)

Varykino at night was quiet, velvet darkness seeming to snag and smother any hint of noise. Even Rey’s own breathing sounded less than it might have been anywhere else, and yet-

And yet with a sense of utter security she slipped half-asleep out of bed, Ben making a muted murmur of unconscious complaint, and padded to the ground floor for a glass of water. Varykino, patient, ushered her along with an almost imperceptible warning nudge to her shoulder when she veered too close to a table.

Maybe (and she smiled sleepily at the thought, kitchen tile cool against her bare feet), a ghost did walk by her side, keeping her safe on her midnight quest. “Thank you,” she murmured when her glass, placed too close to the edge in the dim light, nearly toppled from the counter and somehow did not.

“Thank you,” she murmured again with a yawn when she almost tripped going up the stairs, steadying herself just in time.

 _Thank you,_ she thought on curling up with Ben, her palm over against the steady beat of his heart. 

\- - -

“Come back,” Padmé told Rey earnestly the morning they left, hands holding hers. “You’ll always be welcome here, with or without Ben.” 

Rey- a new ring on her right hand (“You’re exactly who I always wanted for him.”), a ziploc full of double chocolate brownies in her purse (“If he’s never made you my cassoulet, insist on it.”), and the handkerchief, clean and pressed and newly embroidered with her name in her pocket- released Padmé’s hands to pull her into a hug. “Thank you.” She smiled shakily, the next two syllables odd on her tongue but lovingly spoken. “Grand-mère.”

Padmé fairly glowed. She turned to Ben, embracing him soundly. “Benoît.”

He was visibly teary, at their parting, but smiling. “Grand-mère.”

She cupped his cheek. “I expect a text the moment you get home.” 

In the car, driving away (Padmé growing smaller and smaller on the porch, keeping them in sight), Rey hiccuped, not even trying to suppress her tears. “We’ll visit again soon, right?”

“While you’re on winter break,” he suggested, his own voice low and constricted. “Over New Year’s Eve, if she’s free.”

They sent her a picture on arriving home of the pair of them together, Rey perched on Ben’s lap, _we miss you already_ printed below.


End file.
